


Always Look On The Bright Side

by karumenchan



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Honestly this is justa ball of fluff, M/M, its been such a long time since i wrote for them
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-19
Updated: 2019-02-19
Packaged: 2019-10-31 18:25:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,232
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17854811
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/karumenchan/pseuds/karumenchan
Summary: Nicky has somehow convinced Andrew to work part-time at the new coffee shop he has opened. Andrew, obviously, hates the job. However, from everything bad, good things can arise too, right?





	Always Look On The Bright Side

Andrew Minyard was not a sociable person. Crowds made his skin crawl and physical contact made him want to punch a wall and holding a conversation took a harder toll on him than any of the endless practice drills Kevin made him do. Being amicable and plastering a smile on his face for politeness’ sake was, of course, out of the question. Andrew Minyard was not a sociable person, so that was why, one week later, as he looked at the string of sleepy costumers from his spot behind the counter, he could still not understand what the hell he was doing working at Nicky’s coffee shop.  
When his cousin had asked him to lend him a hand in the new cafeteria he had decided to open Andrew had said no. He was sure of it. Yet somehow here he was, wearing a stupid bright blue shirt and a name tag, serving caramel lattes and peanut cupcakes and Oreo shakes so full of sugar that he almost vowed not to eat anything sweet again. Almost.  
He placed the order in the counter with enough force to make the girl in front of him wince. “Five dollars,” he said, and extended his hand in a mix of anger and disinterest.  
The girl all but threw the money on his hand before grabbing her coffee and speeding away. Andrew thought he heard her mutter something in the lines of asshole, not that he cared.  
“A pumpkin spice coffee, with soy milk and no sugar, please,” said the next costumer.  
Andrew’s eyebrows shot up so fast it wouldn’t have been out of the realm of possibility that he had pulled something. He looked at the boy, who was already looking at him expectantly. There was something familiar about him ―about his messy red hair and the swirls in his blue eyes and the stark scar on his cheek― but Andrew wasn’t quite sure what exactly. He didn’t know this boy, that was for sure. He would have remembered.  
When the boy’s brow furrowed, Andrew said: “What did you say?”  
The boy seemed taken aback by his sharpness, but he pulled himself back together quickly, his spine straightening up and his shoulders squaring in a taut fine line, his chin rising up ever so slightly.  
“I said, a pumpkin spice latte, with soy milk and no sugar,” he answered. Then added, slowly: “Please.”  
Andrew narrowed his eyes and leaned on the counter.  
“You do realize,” he said, “that it makes completely no sense that you order a pumpkin spice latte, and then tell me not to put sugar on it?”  
The boy’s chin jutted further. “And why not? Sugar’s bad for your health, so―”  
“Are you being serious?” said Andrew. “You order a pumpkin spice latte but sugar’s bad for your health?”  
“Yeah.”  
“You know there’s actually no pumpkin in it, don’t you?” People on the line behind the boy where starting to move nervously, looking at them from time to time as if willing them to hurry with their eyes. Andrew did not care. “That is all a mash-up of things far unhealthier than sugar?”  
The boy looked at him in silence for a moment, then his eyes shot to Andrew’s chest, where his name tag was, and back at his face.  
“Andrew,” he said, rolling the name in his tongue like it was some exotic, foreign word. It made unwanted chills run down Andrew’s spine. “You do realized I’m the customer here, don’t you? And that if I order a pumpkin spice latte, with soy milk and no sugar, that’s what you have to serve me?”  
Andrew couldn’t help himself: he snorted.  
“What are you laughing about?”  
Andrew turned around without another word and started preparing the order.  
“What’s your name?” he asked over his shoulder.   
For a moment, he thought the boy hadn’t heard him, but then he answered: “Neil.”  
Neil. Andrew wrote the name on the plastic cup with a fat black pen. He placed the order on the counter and crossed his arms over his chest, looking at the boy ―Neil, his name’s Neil― fixedly until he started shifting on his feet. Neil looked uncomfortable, as if Andrew’s prying gaze touched places he didn’t want touched, but he kept his eyes fixed on Andrew’s with a stubborn turn of his chin. He doesn’t like losing.  
“Three dollars fifty,” said Andrew.  
Neil frowned and looked up at the price chart. Andrew knew what he was checking: the pumpkin spice latte was five dollars fifty.  
“But―”  
“Neil,” said Andrew, leaning forward. “There’s people waiting, so please. Three dollars fifty.”  
Neil scowled and dug in the pockets of his jeans, then dropped the money on the counter, grabbed his drink and turned around. The door sounded unusually loud when it closed behind him.  
The rest of the day dragged on in an eternal whirl of sleep-deprived office workers, overly cheerful girls and caffeine-addicted university students.  
Andrew checked the clock for the nth time in the last half an hour. Just twenty minutes until his shift ended and Nicky came to substitute him. He wiped the counters and brought trays of newly baked cakes, changed the coffee filters, rearranged a few tables and glared at a little girl that was looking at him too pointedly. The door to the coffee shop opened again, and Andrew buried a sigh deep within his chest as he went back to his place behind the counter. The he saw who the customer was. Andrew frowned.  
“Wow,” said Neil. “Don’t look so happy to see me.”  
“I am not one to fake emotions,” drawled Andrew, half-amused, half-intrigued.  
Neil rolled his eyes and leaned against the counter. He looked nervous and completely sure of himself at the same time, and though Andrew didn’t know him, he had the feeling that Neil was boy of contradictions.  
“I came back―”  
“I can see that,” interrupted Andrew.  
“I came back,” repeated Neil, with a glare, “because you are a coward.”  
Andrew would have laughed, but he was too stunned to do anything but look at Neil.  
“Since you weren’t brave enough to write your number in my cup,” said Neil, grabbing a paper napkin and then leaning to take the black marker from Andrew’s breast pocket, “I’ll be the one giving it to you.”  
Andrew watched as Neil wrote his name on the napkin with careless strokes. The ink of the marker dampened the thing paper, causing it to tear at some points, but the number was still readable.  
“What?” said Andrew, finally finding his voice.  
Neil handed him the napkin with a raised eyebrow and a slopped smirk.  
“What makes you think I want your number?” said Andrew, as he took the napkin and shoved it into the back pocket of his jeans.  
“Don’t you?”  
“No.”  
“I thought you were not one to fake emotions.”  
Andrew narrowed his eyes at Neil, which only caused Neil to smile wider. Then he fished the paper napkin from his pocket and straightened it as much as he could. Neil watched. Andrew took out his phone and, without taking his eyes off Neil, saved the number. All the endless busy days at this damn coffee shop Nicky had somehow bribed him to work in were suddenly worth it when a dark flush spread over Neil’s freckled cheeks.  
“See you soon, then,” said Andrew.  
Neil, still blushing, smiled.


End file.
